The Breaking Point
by Saoirse Mooney
Summary: You want this. And the wanting exceeds your willingness, and ability, to ignore it.


_This piece is set during_ Voyage of the Dawn Treader _, at some point after the Lone Islands. POV changes are indicated by horizontal lines._ _As always, any character(s) you recognise here belong to C. S. Lewis._

You're restless, and have been since the _Dawn Treader_ cast off from Narrowhaven. So restless, in fact, you've spent most of the past few days buried in anything you can find that keeps your mind busy and focussed on something other than Ed. Since his reappearance in your life (and especially since the Pug incident) you've noticed a burning urge to touch him, for any and no reason, just to have physical contact with him. You get the feeling that if something doesn't happen soon to sort out the tension between the two of you then you just might end up spontaneously combusting out of sheer sexual frustration.

Your utter obsession with him is mushrooming out of your control into an almost intolerable need, and you know that if how you're feeling about him is this obvious to you then it's almost certain to be at least as obvious to him. The last thing you want to do is scare him off by coming on too strong. 'Clueless' is not, after all, a title easily foisted upon Ed.

You have also noticed that you're having trouble dragging (and keeping) your eyes off him. You'd be happy to spend all day looking at and talking to him, which is something a little out of the ordinary for you in itself. Today alone, you've caught yourself sneaking looks at him every five minutes or so, but as far as you can see from your position on deck, he seems, for now at least, oblivious. For the minute, at least, you can't quite decide whether this upsets you.

* * *

" _Ed_."

His whisper is so quiet you find you have to strain your ears to hear, but it's not so much what he's saying as the expression on his face that has you captivated. It is obvious to you he's refusing to touch you in any way for some unknown reasons of his own, which you can't argue with because you don't know what they are. What you _can_ argue against, and indeed are considering doing so, is the fact it's obvious he desperately _wants_ to. You take a step towards him, and then another, until you're as close to him as is possible without either of you touching the other before you look at him again. You open your mouth to speak, intending to say something, ask what was going on, _anything_ really to open a conversation between you. But the words die unspoken as you get a proper look at the expression in his eyes for the first time.

His eyes suddenly seem _huge_ ; his pupils dilated so much that they seem to have subsumed his irises completely. You've never seen him looking like this before, especially not at you. _He looks like he wants to eat me up_. The thought seems to come from the æther and is the last coherent one to register itself in your brain before your eyes lock with his and the two of you drown in each other's gaze. It's more than either can manage to tear your eyes away as the tension between you, already potent, ratchets itself up further.

* * *

Ed breaks first, unable to stand the tension one moment longer; his hand snakes up to cup your cheek before disappearing up into your hair. Your eyes never leave his but they widen slightly in surprise at the contact before you let them flutter closed; at last conceding defeat, admitting to yourself how your wanting this finally exceeds your willingness, and ability, to ignore it.

You lean into his touch, both craving the sensation and repelled by it, frightened about where your feelings for this man could take you, should you give them free rein. This all takes a matter of mere seconds and is almost subconscious; the next thing you are fully aware of doing is closing the tiny amount of space between you by winding an arm around Ed's waist and pulling him flush against you. Having Ed so close to you that his body heat warms you makes the part of your mind that still thinks that this is a Very Bad Idea start panicking. You're saved from making an utter pig's ear of the occasion by overruling it with the part of your mind that's enjoying the feelings generated by Ed being so close to you that only layers of fabric separate his skin from yours. You waste no further time on the thought that this mayn't be one of your wiser moves and let your instincts begin to take over.

* * *

"Cas—"

You try to speak, attempting to verbalise the torrent of feeling you're now experiencing and thus make it feel much less surreal, but Caspian uses a hand (the one not holding you tight against him and making you feel fantastic) to raise a finger to your lips.

" _Shh_. Don't."

His tone is low, pitched so only you can hear and just a little ragged at the edges with need, and it sends shivers down you; you still can't manage to tear your eyes from his.

* * *

You'd considered how to approach this and realised along the way that nonchalance would not do. So your tone is low, seductive, just that little bit ragged at the edges, and you watch Ed shiver with the effect of it. Neither of you can manage to tear your eyes from the other.

"Ed?"

Your voice remain pitched low, inflected with the raw tenderness you've noticed tends to creep in whenever the two of you are alone.

Ed makes a whimpering noise in the back of his throat, not quite coherent enough to form words. Your lips turn up slightly at the corners as you speak again, your eyes darting down to look at Ed's lips, and tenderness filters through your tone even more, this time partnered with an urgency which he doesn't quite appear to understand.

"Ed?"

And all of a sudden his lips are on yours, and there is no more need for talking.


End file.
